Page 9 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

9

POLARIS

E ntering the dining hall is always chaos, but with Wylder by my side, it’s even worse.

As we step over the threshold, the noise grows louder, and I stall, acutely aware of Wylder’s arm draped over my shoulders. I attempt to edge away from him, despite how much I like the feel of his arm around me, but the need to avoid being a spectacle to the room outweighs everything.

Veering toward the witches’ table, I don’t make it two steps before he hauls me back in close, his arm pulling tighter this time as he tucks me into his side, steering me in the opposite direction.

My pulse thunders in my ears as he maneuvers around the vampire table and heads straight for his spot among the wolves.

I don’t dare look, but I sense eyes are on us from every direction. But to my surprise, when I look up the length of the wolf table, I find Lincoln, Tatum, Asher, and Minnie distracted. The knowledge doesn’t fill me with hope since it feels as though the attention I’m garnering isn’t the good kind.

No.

Definitely the gossipy, drama kind.

Dammit.

That’s not what I need on top of everything else.

My steps slow, the need to run more prominent than ever, especially as we pass wolf after wolf. I feel like I'm prey about to be hunted, demolished, and fed to these predators.

Pressing my lips together in a thin line, I curl my fingers into fists, turning my knuckles white as panic sets in. “Wylder,” I murmur, peering up at him, and he shakes his head once, the movement stark and sharp, leaving no room for argument. I part my lips, ready to find the strength to protest and say more, when his eyes land on mine.

“We’re just eating lunch, Little Witch. There’s no reason to hide it,” he states, and I give him a pointed look.

“Except, I’m not a wolf and you’re luring me into the den,” I grumble, and he shrugs, his lips curling at the side in the most irritating way that makes my knees go weak.

“You’re here with me, Polaris. I would never let anything happen to you,” he breathes, tugging me in closer for a beat as I lose all rational thought.

Fuck.

Turning away from him, my eyes land on Minnie’s, who’s smile widens as she waves me closer. Her action draws attention from Tatum, Asher, and Lincoln, but it's the girl sitting across the table from them that leaves me a little more concerned.

Bianca.

She has yet to have a good thing to say about me, and the scathing look on her face confirms the fact that there’s going to be an issue with me being here. If Wylder spots it, he doesn’t acknowledge it as he pulls out the seat beside Minnie before turning to do the same to the chair on the left, which just so happens to be right in front of me.

His arm drops from my shoulders as he takes a seat, while I stand frozen in place, unable to move. His expectations are clear; he wants me to join him at the table, but it’s not as simple as that, and I don’t know why he can’t see it.

My gaze drifts across the room, and I lock eyes with Bryony in her usual spot at the witches’ table. I’m not surprised to see her eyes wide and brows almost touching her hairline as she gapes at me, making it known that my current actions are noticeable to the entire room.

I’m so screwed.

“Sit, Little Witch,” Wylder murmurs, and I shake my head, taking a second to tear my eyes away from Bryony before I finally glance at him. Every part of my body is telling me to run, but I'm locked in place. I know it, I feel it, but I can’t seem to bring myself to say it.

Saying it is admitting it, and admitting it is believing it, and I don’t want to believe it.

You don’t belong here, Polaris.

The words burn in my thoughts and my stomach churns.

I don’t belong anywhere. That feels like my truth, my reality.

Not at Trinity Falls Academy, not at the witches’ table, and definitely not at the wolves’ table, yet here I am.

I can run from it, from this moment, admitting the truth not just to myself but those around me that doubt me simply because I’m a Florentine. I can shake myself off, get a grip of myself, and strengthen the resilience I know is nestled deep down inside of me… somewhere.

“If she doesn't want to be here, she can leave,” Lincoln grunts, his head downcast once again, leaving a burning sensation of disappointment, embarrassment, and awkwardness rippling inside of me. A feeling I can't tamp down. His distaste for me is clear, but it's hard to acknowledge, understand, or even respect when I know I haven't done anything wrong.

Surprisingly, his words fuel my desire to stay, but before I can make a decision, Wylder sighs. “Have it your way,” he murmurs, grabbing my waist and yanking me down into his lap in the next breath.

My spine is stiff, my body frozen as he curls an arm around me, holding me in place with my legs across his lap. As if he didn’t just make a spectacle of me, he fills his plate with food.

Blinking at him, I’m at a loss for words, and my gaze darts up, finding Asher on the other side of Minnie with his eyebrow cocked. I can’t decide if there’s a question in his stare before he shakes his head and delves back into the food in front of him.

My stare turns to Tatum seated on the other side of him. There’s a soft smile on his lips, his long brown hair twisted into a knot at the back of his head as he offers me a subtle nod before doing the same. Apparently they’re not that fazed by me being here.

As if sensing my thoughts, Lincoln scoffs, refusing to look my way, but clearly aware of my presence. My gut clenches, leaving me irritated by the fact that I even care, when Minnie braces her elbow on the table, blocking the rest of them from view as she nibbles on her fries.

“Is everything okay? You left combat class in quite a hurry.” It’s clear she’s fishing for answers she already has if the glint in her eyes is anything to go by.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment, a telltale feeling at this point as I stumble over an attempt to offer her a response. Thankfully, Wylder interjects before I can make a fool of myself.

“It was all me, I was being a dick.”

I frown at his choice of words, my eyebrows furrowing as I shake my head, but Minnie chuckles before I get a chance to correct him.

“Is that why you got sand in your eye?” she asks with a grin, giving me a wink.

“That’s exactly why,” he answers, his fingers flexing at my waist. “Apparently, trying to encourage her to feel rage, to fight back with all of her strength, isn't quite the way to go,” he mutters, the tip of his nose skimming over my temple as Minnie beams at me.

“That's my girl. Make him work for it.” I roll my eyes, my embarrassment reaching new heights under the attention I'm getting. “Anyway, you’re not going to hold this guy being an ass against me, are you? You’re still going to come tonight, right?”

I tilt my head at her, confused. “Tonight?”

Wylder’s hand drops to my thigh, squeezing at the single word, and I bite back a groan.

“It's a new full moon tonight, which means we’re obviously having a party. You’ll be there, right?”

Memories of the last full moon wolf party I attended flash in my mind. The shot with Wylder and Bryony, dancing until my feet ached before running into Lincoln. I muttered those little words, exposing my virginity, wanting to cut him somehow with my truth, but instead it wound up slicing me. The recollection of that night quickly darkens when I recall how it ended: with V’s death.

Veronica.

I had known her name for barely a day.

“Can someone tell me why the fuck we’re inviting some little bitch? Someone to sink our teeth into isn’t usually part of the night’s fun,” Bianca snarls from across the table, her pupils almost black with rage as I stiffen.

“Excuse me,” I blurt, rearing my head at her. I don't know where the sass comes from, but the irritation inside me burns bright.

She sits taller in her seat, a quick splash of surprise in her eyes at my outburst, but she smothers it before giving me a deathly glare. “We don't need people like you at our table, our parties, or anywhere near us for that matter,” she rattles off, her lip curling up in a sneer.

My heart ricochets in my chest. I knew something like this would go down. I should have dug my heels in more and insisted on leaving.

“If you don't like Polaris’s presence, you can leave, Bianca,” Asher says from his seat with his eyes boring into the side of my face instead of the girl he's talking to.

I can’t turn away from her, however. I’m too busy anticipating what her next move may be.

Her nostrils flare, irritation clear as she ignores me and turns to glare at Asher. “She shouldn't be at this table. No runts, definitely not of the witch kind, and especially not at my table, and not with their grubby little paws on things that don’t belong to them,” she rants, overwhelming my mind with her choice of words.

Tatum is the one to scoff this time. “The only runt I see is the one running her mouth.”

I press my lips together, surprised, impressed, and embarrassed, all at once.

I want to keep building on this resilience I’m digging deep for, but unnecessary drama isn’t where I’m going to strengthen it. I definitely don’t want to cause any issues among the wolves either. That will only make me more of an issue and I can already sense people gawking at me, but I refuse to turn to see how many there are.

“Maybe I should leave,” I mutter, trying to stand, but Wylder makes it impossible.

“Yeah, you should,” Bianca bites when a deep, thunderous growl makes everyone freeze.

“Shut the fuck up, Bianca, or straight up fuck off.”

The snarl bites through the air, stealing my breath as a chill runs down my spine. The sound is unhinged as hell, but I’m more shocked by the fact that it came from Lincoln of all people.

My pulse thunders and my entire body warms with my scattered emotions.

“I don't want to cause a scene,” I breathe, my voice mild and meek in comparison to the bark from Lincoln. “But I don't care to deal with your shit, either,” I admit, staring deep into Bianca’s eyes.

Once again, I’m overwhelmed by the fact that I’m speaking up for myself. I can’t decide if it’s because I don’t want any of these guys to speak on my behalf or because I refuse to be belittled anymore, especially after my encounter with Blaze this morning. But truthfully, it’s likely a combination of both.

Bianca glares at me, her middle finger raised and aimed in my direction.

“You need to remember your place,” Bianca spits at me, and Minnie slams her fists down on the table.

“Right back at you. You’re always wanting what you can’t have. Now shut the fuck up, piss off, and find a seat elsewhere,” Minnie snarls, her eyes shimmering with flecks of gold, and I gape in surprise.

I’m definitely out of my comfort zone here, there’s no denying it.

Trying to stand, Wylder holds me so tight I can barely breathe. “You're not going anywhere until you've eaten, especially after the energy we just burned off. You're going to need it,” he says against my ear, and I pray to God that nobody else can hear him, but when I look up through my lashes, I spy Minnie rubbing her lips together, holding back her amusement.

Fuck.

Tilting my face so I can actually look at him, my gaze meets his, desperation flickering through his hazel eyes like a tornado.

I take a deep breath, my veins thrumming with caution as I accept my current situation. I'm not leaving until he says so, and a part of me, despite the shitstorm swirling around us, doesn’t want to leave anyway.

Exhaling slowly, I ignore the death stares from across the table and eye the food to choose from.

“Here, let me make you a plate since Wylder is being a little protective,” Minnie insists, the sharp, feral snarl from moments ago completely gone as she smiles at me.

I can’t find my voice as I watch her pile a plate full with food. So high, that my eyes go wide and I start to panic. When she places it before me, I gape in utter disbelief.

“What? What's wrong? Do you not like some of the food?” she asks, and I shake my head.

Wylder snickers, releasing his hold, just a little. “No, Minnie, she's just not a wolf.”

For the first time, I watch Minnie’s cheeks flush a soft pink hue. “Oh, well, you don’t have to eat all of it,” she mutters, tucking a loose curl behind her ear as she turns back to her own food.

“Fuck this,” Bianca mutters, the sound of her chair scraping over the floor following swiftly after. “I’m not dealing with this shit,” she adds, not even bothering to look at me as her stare settles on Wylder. “Maybe in the future, you can keep your trash private,” she yells before beelining for the exit.

I exhale again, slightly relieved that she’s gone, but I'm acutely aware that the looks I'm getting from other people around the table match the vibe she was offering. My stomach chooses that exact moment to rumble as the smell of the food gets the better of me and I relent.

Biting into the grilled cheese sandwich first, I try my best to hide the impact of Bianca’s statement, and it seems to work because as soon as I start eating, everybody else falls into sync, and a somewhat comfortable silence casts over us.

The hard press of Wylder’s thighs beneath me, and his banded muscles tightened around my waist, make it impossible for me to focus on much, but once I'm full, I know I need to get the hell out of here before this turns any crazier. Especially when he starts to draw circles on my leg with his fingertip, each swirl getting closer to the apex of my thighs.

I’m about to go from being a spectacle to performing a show which involves me and his dick, and given the fact that I’ve yet to experience any kind of sexual activity in a bed, I don’t think I’m quite ready for this level of exhibitionism.

“I should go,” I say, taking note of the rest of the dining hall dispersing, ready for their next class.

“I’m coming with you,” Wylder states, easing his hold on me, but I shake my head.

“I’m good, I have sigil class,” I insist, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine, but I'll see you at the party,” he states, not really seeking an answer as if he already knows it, and before I can open my mouth, he pulls me to my feet and crowds my space with his hands pressed to either side of my face.

His mouth is on mine in the next moment, stealing my breath as his tongue slips through the seam of my lips, claiming me in front of everybody. When he finally pulls back, I'm dizzy, my lips a puffy, salacious mess.

“I should go,” I stammer, taking a step back, and the smirk on his lips tells me he knows exactly the effect he's having on me.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, dropping back down into his seat.

I remain in place for a moment, nodding profusely when my eyes settle on Tatum. The look in his eyes is filled with unspoken words, but I can't quite decipher the meaning. There’s a huge sense of both positive and negative swirls in his deep brown eyes.

Unsure what to do, I step back, ready to get the hell out of there, when he taps his cheek.

Fuck.

My cheeks burn brighter than ever as I consider my next option, feeling eyes on me, but instead of taking a further step back, like I definitely know I should, I take one forward. Then another, and another, until I'm right beside his seat.

He leans back, almost arching in his seat as he tilts his face to the side, and despite my inner war, I find myself leaning forward. The world stills, the moment in time imprinting in my mind as I make it publicly clear that I’m caught between two men.

My lips brush against his cheek for the briefest second before I stand.

“Later, Polaris,” he murmurs, and I nod, my entire body moving on autopilot as I struggle to register what I’m doing.

My heart thunders through my entire body, leaving me pulsing from head to toe.

Despite all of that, my lips part. “Later, Tatum,” I mutter, turning toward the doors.

I don’t look back. Not even once. Who the hell knows what crazy stupid shit I would do if I did. I’ve had my fill of insanity for the day, I can’t put myself through any more.